


Reposession

by OnyxWerewolf



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Background characters - Freeform, Lab Buddies - Freeform, Lab Buddies comic, M/M, Magic, Slime!smiffy, atomic dissasembler, fighteramy, werewolf!Ross, yogscast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxWerewolf/pseuds/OnyxWerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parvis is assigned to escort one of Strife's inventions, but when a trio of master criminals gets involved, things get complicated for the blood mage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reposession

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by fighteramy's comic Lab Buddies ( url: http://fighteramy.tumblr.com/) I highly recommend you go check it out, it's the some of the best work I've seen for Yogscast done in quite some time. She has amazing storytelling skills and unparalleled art skills, so it really is worth your time. Hope you enjoy it!

Parvis tugged at the collar of his shirt for the billionth time, muttering to himself about the indignity of the clothes Strife had pushed him in.

He sat in the cab of a giant eight wheeler, two men in full riot gear, all black material and tinted face masks. One sat to his right, driving the giant monster and the other sat to his left, nervously sliding his hand up and down the side of his rifle. Strifey was apparently sending some new technology off to a buyer of his across the sea, very important and very technical and very blah blah blah. Parvis had stopped listening to Strife about halfway through the conversation, something he tended to do a lot. 

The gist of it, from what Parvis understood, was he was part representative of Strife and also bodyguard of the product. He was delighted to hear that should anyone try anything funny and harm the product, Parvis was allowed to pull out his magic and have some fun. What Parvis wasn't delighted about was the fact that Strife forced him out of his regular attire of indie band t-shirts and torn jeans into black suit pants, a black button up shirt and a black suit vest. He looked like an oil well barfed on him, not that had a problem with black, but still.

Strifey even worked on his hair! He slicked back the mass of black that usually stuck up and was spiked in random places, so it shines and not a single hair was out of place. At least he was still allowed to wear his Converse shoes, which now tapped on the floor, drumming out a beat that was usually playing in his head.

Before long, the truck stopped at one of Server's many docks and Parvis found himself sliding out of the cab. He pressed to his side a satchel made from expensive material and that contained even more expensive materials needed for his craft.

Even more armored soldiers came bursting out of the back of the truck, meaning there was about five of them now. From the back came a huge wooden crate and was placed into a small forklift which bustled over to a waiting boat. 

This whole process took some time, so as he waited, Parvis pulled from his bag a knife, the golden handle glowing in the warm orange glow of street lights and the blade shining like sliver death. He bounced knife in his hand, flipping it up into the air and back into his hand, sometimes catching the blade and other times the handle. 

Something started niggling at the back of his mind though, a familiar feeling that formed ice in his stomach. Looking around, he didn't see much, just a bunch of soldiers guarding a stupid bloody forklift, so y'know.

Then it hit him, he knew what that feeling was.

"Get down!" screamed Parvis. "There's a mage-" but his cry was drowned out by the sound crackling energy come flying out of the shadows and knocked down three of the soldiers, killing them instantly. 

From a different direction came a figure bounding out towards them, great flashing teeth and claws like butcher knifes. 

It tore into two soldiers, shredding all the protection like tissue paper. Getting a better look at it, Parvis realized it looked just like a man, albeit having teeth, claws, and was insanely hairy. 

Reaching in his bottomless bag, Parvis drew out a sword, the edge of it was gold and the blade was a deep maroon, the weapon of a blood mage. 

Parvis whistled at the suit clad beast, vying for its attention. He got it. The thing came tearing at him, bare hands slapping the pavement as it raced towards him. 

Steeling himself, Parvis swung as the beast launched himself off the ground and came flying at Parvis' face. Parvis' curled fist and the handle of the sword was just enough to stop the beast, back handing it and sending it skidding across the pavement.

Parvis had only a moment to revel in his victory before another bolt of blue energy hurtled from the darkness and sent him to the ground. His whole body seized up, and he was paralyzed for a moment, long enough for a third figure to point the barrel of a rifle in his face. 

The figure was dressed in black suit pants, smart looking black shoes accompanying the pants. The oddest thing about him was he wearing a brown winter jacket, puffed up fur covering the neck opening and hand openings. Because of this, Parvis could only make out his nose and above, no mouth seen. 

"Stay still, blood mage," said fur coat, his voice was muffled because of speaking into the coat. Soon, he was joined by the beast, who was now standing upright, and a man was dressed in a blue vest, the coat tails curling up so much, they were almost cartoonish in nature. 

At first Parvis thought that blue vest's skin was green, but upon closer inspection, he realized he was made out of this green substance, even his hair was made of it. It seemed similar to that of a slime, but who had ever heard of a slime walking upright and taking this kind of form on?

The beast looked at blue vest and said in a voice that sounded like the rumbling of falling rocks, "Smiff, think you can change me back?"

The slime man nodded and with a wave of a quartz tipped wand, the long teeth, sharp claws, and some of the hairy-ness disappeared, soon leaving the beast as nothing more than a thickly haired man in a black suit with a white button up and blazing red tie. 

"So," murmured the slime man as he peered down at Parvis. "What should we do with em, Trott? I bet ol' Strife would pay a pretty penny to get his pet blood mage back!"

Fur coat, or rather, Trott as he had been called, shook his head and replied, "No, we get what we came for and leave him. The last thing you want to do is make William Strife too mad, Smiffy."

Smiffy, the slime man, adopted a pouting look, but stepped back from Parvis as requested. "Ross, get him up," said Trott and the former beast heaved Parvis up and over his shoulder. 

Parvis began to wriggle and protest at being carried. "HEY! Put me down, you don't know who you're messing with!"

From behind him came the voice of Trott. "Alex Parvis, dropped out of high school at age sixteen to be in a band, currently twenty six years of age, personal assistant to one William Strife, the same William Strife that is currently CEO of Strife Solutions, and most importantly, amateur guitarist and blood mage."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING 'AMATEUR'?!!? YOU WANNA GO SHORTY?!!! I COULD PUNT YOU ALL THE WAY BACK TO WHATEVER HOLE YOU CRAWLED OUT OF!"

A voice came from the man carrying him. "Oi, mate, Trott said you needed to be alive, he didn't say anything about not breaking a few bones. So, if I was you, I'd cut the insults."

Parvis quieted down, but not before making an unpleased sound in the back of his throat. 

He was placed in front of the wooden crate that had been somehow moved off the forklift, though how he had no clue.

"Open it," said Trott as he hand Parvis a crowbar he had produced from his giant jacket. 

"What? Why me?" asked Parvis.

"Because," growled Trott, the impatience blatantly clear in his voice. "The last guy who opened a Strife Solutions crate got his head removed from his neck because he didn't check for any fail safes or booby traps."

Smiffy cracked up. "Oh, yeah I remember that twat! That look on his face was priceless, such surprise! What was his name again, Trott?"

"Wood. Martyn Wood if I'm correct." 

Parvis figured that they were just trying to mess with him, but that did sound like something Strife would do.

Trying not to cringe as he did so, Parvis jammed one end of the crowbar into the side of the crate and levered it up. It popped free, no explosions or anything like that just yet. 

He removed the other side and peered down into the crate. There, laying on a bed of packing material lay something Parvis had only ever seen with Strife: an atomic disassembler. 

The machine was like a long black staff, with a blue 'blade' at the top.

The 'blade' was actually a piece of strong metal, that when powered, cut at an atomic level, meaning it literally disassembled atoms, meaning it could cut through pretty much anything. 

Parvis was pushed out of the way and Trott wrenched the massive thing out of the crate. "Looks like we got what we came for! Smiff, take care of the kid." 

The slime turned on Parvis and waved his quartz tipped wand, then everything went black.

***

"So much for that blood mage!" crowed Smiffy as the trio bounced down the sidewalk. "I thought he was gonna be a challenge! One look at Ross and he was turning his trousers brown." 

Ross smiled and rolled his neck, a chorus of clicking bones sounding. "What can I say, I'm terrifying."

Trott smiled underneath his jacket and muttered, "It's a shame that girls have the same reaction as Parvis did."

Smith cackled like a hyena and Ross turned on Trott. "Oh, says the fuzzball that looks like a walrus!"

Smith cackled even more, and Trott gritted his teeth underneath his jacket. "I am not a walrus! I just... I have a body heat condition, you know that by now."

Smiffy and Ross shared an amused look. 

"Aw, ain't that cute," said a rough voice that came from in front of them. A trio of heads snapped to the voice and a trio of mouths broke into wicked grins. Standing before Hat Corp was a pale skinned man, cigar lit in his mouth. His attire was a dark fedora and matching trench coat that matched his wrinkled button up and sky blue tie. The look screamed more mob boss, but in fact the man was a prison warden. 

Ross stepped ahead and got nose to nose with the man. "Don't you know who we are, mate? We're Hat Corp, and we don't take kindly to pigs like you gettin' in our way." Ross growled his words, and his mouth was twisted into a slight manic grin, his eyes gleaming with the possibility of a fight. The man's jaw was tight, his mouth bowed in a frown. 

Suddenly, the both of them threw back their heads and laughed heartily. Ross clapped a hand on the man's shoulders and grinned at him again, this time, not so manic. "It's good to see you, Sips!"

Smiffy and Trott approached and gave greeting to their old friend. "How's the prison business going, huh?" asked Smiffy.

"Ah, it's a dream, boys!" chuckled Sips. "Summer Slam has so many benefits! Who knew being on the other side of the law was so much fun!"

"But you're only on the right side of the law on paper, Sips, most people know that."

"Yep," Sips admitted. "I guess I'm still a bit crooked." For a moment, Sips seemed to be thinking about his old days as a crook, and might have even gotten a bit misty eyed, but he shrugged off the contemplative look and his eyes crinkled with a smile. "But enough of that!"

"You guys got my money?" 

Trott produced a thick stack of money and plopped it into Sips' open palm. Sips leered at it and closed his fingers around it. 

"Pleasure doing business, boys!" cheered Sips. 

"And you're sure Strife'll get the message?" said Trott in a monotone voice.

"Oh sure I'm sure! I'll have a couple boys park the crate right outside the building."

***

The next morning, as Will Strife walked to the front door of Strife Solutions, he noticed a large wooden crate that suspiciously looked like the one he sent with Parvis last night to the docks. 

The lid was already half pried open, leaving it quite easy for the CEO to pull it away and throw it to the ground. Inside, sleeping soundly, was Parvis.

"ALEX PARVIS WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" cried Strife in a booming voice.

Parvis jolted awake and looked up at his boss. 

"S-Sorry, Strifey," murmured Parvis. 

"Parv, what happened to you?! What happened to the atomic disassembler?!"

Parvis, holding his head in one hand, offered Strife a piece of crumpled white paper. "They happened to me."

Written in neat, blocky handwriting, a message was scrawled. 

'We've made our move, time for your move, William.'

At the bottom, three signatures were signed and the words Hat Corp were typed. 

"Oh you've gotta be kidding me," muttered Strife. 

"Hey, Strifey, think you can get me out of this box? My foots asleep," whined Parvis.

Calm as can be, Strife picked up the lid and slammed it down on the top of the box and trotted up the front steps.


End file.
